Death by Haunting (12 page)

Asa had to admit. This Charles II was a very good dancer.

39

“D
o you have to dance so close? This is supposed to be a waltz. You’re doing a foxtrot.”

“For once, will you let me take the lead?” complained Goetz.

Suddenly the waltz ended and the band played
All Of Me.

Goetz pulled me closer and put his cheek against mine as he paraded us around the dance floor. “
All of me, why not take all of me? Can’t you see that I’m no good without you,
” whispered Goetz.

“
Take my lips. I want to lose them. Take my arms. I’ll never use them
,” I joined in.

Goetz mouthed in my ear, “
Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry. How can I go on, dear, without you?”

I finished the song,
“You took the part that was once my heart, so why not take all of me?”

I glanced up at Goetz. The intensity of his stare was too much. I looked away. I was not used to men looking at me so intently.

“Look at me, Josiah,” he rumbled.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid that I’ll lose myself. I can’t afford another mistake.” I tried pushing him away but Goetz’s grip was firm. That man was strong.

He rested his cheek against my hair. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”

“You’ll try to change me. Control me.”

“Never.”

I finally pushed out of his grip. “I don’t ever want to love again. It hurts too much.”

“I’m not that son-of-a-bitch Brannon.”

“That’s just it. Brannon was a wonderful man. We had many happy years but his betrayal just about did me in. You might be a wonderful man too, but in the end, you’ll betray me somehow. I just know it.”

Goetz started toward me.

“Don’t. Just don’t,” I cried as I fled the ballroom.

40

“M
ommy, what are you doing in here? I followed you from the ballroom.”

“Oh Asa, you made it!” I tilted my cheek for a kiss. “I came in here to hide.”

We were in one of the unused guest rooms. I was sitting on the bed trying to figure out why Goetz frightened me so.

“Did the good Detective upset you? Why does that man always look like an unmade bed?” Asa added as an afterthought.

“I think it’s because he looks like a Shar Pei.” We both smiled at the thought of Goetz looking like a wrinkled dog.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did he upset you?”

“Not really. It’s just at times like this I wish your father were here . . . or Jake. I miss Jake, I guess.”

Asa frowned. “Since you brought him up, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

I held up my hand. “Please don’t. I know he’s not coming back. I don’t need to know anything else. Okay?”

Asa sat on the bed and put her arms around me. “Sure, Mom. It can wait.”

Asa smelled like lavender basking under warm sunshine.

“Is everything ready?”

“Everyone has been put in place,” assured Asa. “All he has to do is go after the bait.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then there is very little that can be done at this point.”

I started to speak but a gong sounded. Asa and I went out into the hallway where there was quite a bit of commotion.

We followed the crowd upstairs and peered over the ornate banister where Jean Louis and Lady Elsmere were enacting Jacques-Louis David’s 1804 masterpiece
The
Coronation of Napoleon
where he was placing a crown upon Josephine’s head as Empress of the French Empire.

Jean Louis was dressed as a Roman wearing a golden olive wreath on his noble brow and white toga while sporting a red velvet robe embroidered with golden honeybees, exactly as Napoleon was attired in the painting.

Below him on the steps knelt Lady Elsmere in an exact replica of the regalia Josephine wore.

Behind her stood two of her oldest friends holding up the train of her enormous red robe.

In real life, the two women holding up Josephine’s train were Napoleon’s sisters who at the moment of kneeling tried to cause Josephine to fall by tugging on the train, thus embarrassing her in front of the European court that had come to witness the coronation.

However, Josephine managed to catch herself and kneeled with grace. You go, girl!

Everyone started clapping and yelling, “Bravo! Bravo!”

Jean Louis helped Lady Elsmere to her feet after which they bowed to the enthusiastic crowd.

Lady Elsmere quieted everyone. “I wish to thank you all for coming to see my new portrait by Jean Louis. Jean Louis, I wish to thank you for breathing new life into me. I am sorry to see my friend leave us tonight but enough said. I hate long goodbyes. Everyone – enjoy yourselves.”

As the crowd dispersed, Goetz made his way up the grand staircase to us.

“Hello Asa. You look very becoming tonight.”

“Thank you, Detective Goetz.”

“Come on, Josiah. This is your ballgame. No time to get cold feet.”

“Are you going to quit trying to corral me?”

“Yeah. I’m going to let you chase me from here on out.”

“As if I ever would.”

Asa tilted her head listening to her mother and the Detective banter, but kept her thoughts to herself. “I’ll get the smarmy Jean Louis myself,” said Asa. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Make sure that painting is gone.”

“Let’s do it,” I pronounced. Leaning over the balcony, I caught Liam’s eye as he was giving last-minute instructions to servants for the midnight buffet.

He nodded and very deftly walked past the John Henry Rouson painting and lifted it off the wall without attracting any undue attention. Like the true thief that Liam was, he walked away with the painting by his side and out of the room.

What was astonishing is that no one seemed to notice.

41

“N
ow, it is time for me to go into action,” remarked Asa. Starting down the staircase, she looked for Charles II, turning down many offers to dance.

Finally wandering into the ballroom, she saw him dancing with a woman dressed as Ophelia as painted by Sir John Everett Millais. She could see that Charles II was having a hard time competing with Ophelia’s large bouquet of flowers, which kept getting caught under his rather large nose.

Seeing Asa wave to him, Charles II rolled his eyes in dismay and promptly danced Ophelia over to a corner where he dumped her after thanking her for a lovely samba.

“I didn’t mean to break up a meaningful relationship,” quipped Asa after Charles II sashayed over to her.

“All Ophelias are bores and definitely in need of Prozac.”

“I need your help.”

Charles II’s eyes lighted up. “Great. Who do I have to kill?”

“See that fat little man over there?”

“You mean the guest of honor, Jean Louis?”

“I want you to flaunt me right under his nose.”

“And then.”

“Turn me over to him when he cuts in.”

“Very sure of your charms, aren’t you?”

“You came when I waggled my finger.”

Charles II smiled. “Touché, but I’m an easy touch. Desperate for female contact.”

“And so is he.”

“Well, let’s do the dirty deed,” crooned Charles II as he whisked Asa around the dance floor to where Jean Louis was talking to admirers.

Immediately Jean Louis saw Asa out of the corner of his eye. “Excuse me please, but I must dance with this rare Kentucky flower before I leave tonight,” he said to his little group before bowing.

Quickly he stepped onto the dance floor and tapped Charles II on the shoulder.

“So sorry to cut in, but Madame X promised me this dance.” He stared at Asa as though daring her to call him a liar.

“He’s so right. I’m sorry, but I did promise Jean Louis this dance,” Asa said.

“Truly my loss,” replied Charles II as he turned Asa over to the diminutive Jean Louis.

“I’m all yours,” cooed Asa.

“If only I had more time,” rhapsodized Jean Louis staring at Asa’s décolletage. “I would love to paint you, maybe as an odalisque.”

“That has been so done. Can’t you think of something more original?”

“But a woman such as yourself needs to be adored, needs to be worshipped.”

“I feel as though I’m being worshipped enough right now. Do you mind removing your hand from my derrière?”

Jean Louis gave Asa a sheepish grin before dipping her.

“Didn’t expect that,” groused Asa as she righted herself. This guy was a regular octopus. “Let’s go out into the hall. It’s so crowded and hot in here.”

“Not at all, cherie,” Jean Louis said as he whisked her into the hallway.

There stood people gathering at the buffet table. Most were going into the dining room with their full plates while some gathered in the breakfast room.

There were a few couples dancing in the grand entryway. Asa and Jean Louis joined them.

Jean Louis bantered on about his next portrait assignment until he stopped dead in his tracks. “The painting is gone,” he ranted.

“What?”

“The John Henry Rouson painting is gone! The one I gave to Lady Elsmere. It’s not here.”

Asa turned and stared at the blank wall. “I think I heard Lady Elsmere say that she was donating it to the Headley-Whitney Museum for an equestrian art show. She sent it out to be cleaned and appraised.”

Jean Louis gaped at Asa in wide surprise. “But that was not the stipulation of the gift. She was never to remove the painting . . . and it was never to be cleaned. You must excuse me but I need to check on my luggage. I am leaving in just a few hours.”

“But we were having such a good time.”

“Do you know where the painting is now?”

“It’s probably in Charles’ office . . . he runs this place but he is on vacation.”

“I know where that office is. It’s on the other side of the house.”

“Is there a problem with the painting?”

Jean Louis took out a perfumed handkerchief and mopped his sweating upper lip. “Everything is wonderful. Thank you for a lovely dance, Madame X.”

Asa nodded and watched the little fat man rush up the grand staircase. “That’s really a shame,” said Asa, pouting to no one in particular. “He is such a good dancer. What a waste.”

42

M
uch to Lady Elsmere’s chagrin, Jean Louis didn’t even say goodbye. It was assumed that he had called a cab and left during the party.

At least that’s what Lady Elsmere assumed.

Everyone else knew differently.

43

J
ean Louis knew his way around the Big House. He had hidden and waited until the last guest left at 2:15 a.m. and Liam had turned out the lights at 3:30 a.m.

He had to hurry. He knew that the horse staff started to arrive at 4:30 a.m., but he should be long gone before then. Of course, he would have been halfway to Europe by now if that stupid woman hadn’t loaned out that painting he had given her. Thank goodness he had stumbled upon the fact it was going to have a cleaning. That just could not happen.

He quickly went to Charles’ office and unlocked the door with a duplicate key he had made. Jean Louis had had duplicates made of all the keys to the estate. How else could he have gotten into June’s estate checkbook and lifted several checks from the back? Nothing would be noticed until the checks were cashed and still the crime would not be tied to him. Maybe some suspicions, but no proof.

If a former benefactor caused a fuss about checks missing from a checkbook or an article of some importance missing from its nook, Jean Louis had already discovered something about the benefactor. Usually something naughty that the benefactor did not wish to be known to the world. That stopped all accusations.

But Jean Louis didn’t have anything over the Lady Elsmere. Years ago, an affair between the mistress and the butler would have caused a scandal, but he knew June well enough to know that she would relish the notoriety.

Sometimes Jean Louis pined for the good old days when scandal was something juicy a grifter could really sink his teeth into.

Focus
, thought Jean Louis.
Get that painting and get out
. He pointed the flashlight about until he flashed behind the desk. Not expecting to see a person, he cried out while dropping the flashlight.

44

T
he office suddenly flooded with light as a person sitting in the chair behind the desk flipped on the desk lamp.

Much to Jean Louis’ chagrin, there sat Asa Reynolds holding the John Henry Rouson painting.

“Looking for this?” she taunted.

45

G
one was the black satin dress with jeweled straps. Asa was now wearing a black duster with evil looking black boots that came up mid-calf. Her hair was swept up in a French braid.

“You frightened me,” complained Jean Louis. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go sneaking around people’s houses in the wee hours of the morning.”

“I forgot something.”

Asa laughed. “Yes, I know. You forgot this.” She jiggled the painting.

“Don’t do that, please.”

“Why not, Jean Louis? I admit it is a handsome painting of some horses, worth some serious money, but not a great fortune.”

“You don’t know what you’ve got there.”

“Maybe I do.”

Jean Louis snorted. It sounded girlish. “Give me the painting, Asa, and I will cut you in.”

“How about I cut this?” Asa flashed a switchblade toward the painting.

Jean Louis screamed, “Mon dieu, don’t damage that painting! It’s priceless!”

“What’s the matter, Jean Louis?”

“If you harm that painting, I’ll kill you. I swear I will!”

“No you won’t. Violence is not your style. Oh, I admit you’ve been a bad boy most of your life, but hurting people physically . . . not you. You like to cheat, steal, con, extort, blackmail and threaten your victims, but you’ve never gone beyond that. Maybe your daddy did.”